When Last We Met
by machievelli
Summary: Continuation of the Rogue Squadron series. Gara Petothel gets a second chance at love.


When last we met…

A brief explanation…

I am a voracious reader, and when I decided to get into Star Wars instead of Star Trek, I raided the library and grabbed everything I could. One series in the Expanded Universe was really good; the X wing books written by Michael A. Stackpole and Aaron Allston. The last named author created an adjunct to the original books. You see, the first squadron created was merely Rogue Squadron, and was a combination of fighter pilots who had been trained in some special operations.

But Allston created Wraith Squadron. This Squadron was reversed. People trained primarily in special operations that were also trained pilots. Sort of like a Green Beret team with planes attached. One of those pilots was special at least to me.

Her name was Lara Notsil, a girl orphaned by an Imperial attack on her home world who joined the Republic fleet as a pilot, and became a member of Wraith Squadron. But she was more than that. She was in reality an Imperial agent named Gara Petothel, who infiltrated the Republic and intended originally to betray them. But she changed her mind. Part of that was because of the differences in the two governments, but one big chunk of it was she fell in love.

But true love doesn't last. Her identity was discovered, and her lover, reacting to the fact that the woman he loved was also the one that had caused the death of his earlier squadron acted instead of thinking.

He tried to kill her.

She ran away, but she still tried to help the Republic by temporarily crippling a super star Destroyer named Iron Fist. During that operation she also rescued several aliens who had been used in genetic experiments including an Ewok named Kolot.

Again fleeing, she was believed killed. But she sent a message to the man she loved using the name of Kirney Slane. She was offering her lover a chance to be together, or for him to know where she was to hunt her down. The last book Solo Command ended with him trying to decide what to do. Of all of the people in the series, only three people knew that she was still alive; Han Solo, Wedge Antilles, and her lover Myn Donos.

But it bothered me.

Either they were going to hunt her down, or let her go or do something at least!

But they left it there.

And its been bugging the crap out of me.

So I decided to do something about it.

So I wrote this...

"Miss Slane?" The woman slowed, looking at the concierge. He walked over. "Several messages for you, Madam."

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, gentle. She took the flimsies, and walked on toward the lift. She waited until she was on the lift then slowly went through them. The lift stopped at the 100th floor and she walked down the hall to her rooms.

The door closed, and she leaned against it, the flimsies falling to the floor like confetti. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, hands clenched as the tears began.

She still wasn't sure why she had sent that message to Myn. As espionage tradecraft went it was suicide. She had painted a sign on herself that said 'kill me' and stood here waiting. For what? Did she think for a minute that he would come? That he would forgive her? Or would he try to kill her again?

Three months. It had been three months since she had sent that message. Every day she had waited for a Republic strike force to land on her like the hammer of the gods. For the knock of a Republic intelligence or CSF team that would drag her away. Perhaps for him to come personally, to look at his eyes beyond the blaster barrel followed by a flash of plasma and death.

For an end to this, one way or another. She wanted the pain to end.

A gentle hand touched her face, and she hugged her sole companion as she sobbed.

One more week, she told herself. If he doesn't come, I will go. I will dig a hole, bury myself away. I'll try to get on with my life.

"What are you going to do about her, Myn?" Brigadier General Wedge Antilles, Squadron leader of Rogue squadron asked. Myn Donos, who had just been promoted to colonel stared at the mug of Corellian ale before him silently. They were in the flight mess of Home One, surrounded by empty tables.

Wedge sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Myn, I left it to you because of your feelings for Lara-"

"Not Lara." Donos snapped. "She was never Lara."

"What do you want me to call her?" Wedge demanded. "Gara? Kirney? Traitor? Your lover?"

Myn looked up, and Wedge regretted his mouth. He finished the ale in front of him. No more for him. "Sorry, Myn."

"Forget it." Myn Donos had been a morose man when he'd joined Wraith Squadron. The sole survivor of Talon Squadron, he had watched eleven people he cared about slaughtered in less than ten minutes. Only he and his astromech droid had survived. During one of their first operations that droid Whistler had been damaged and Donos had almost become catatonic. Until the droid was repaired Myn was a shell of a man.

A squadron is more than the craft their pilots or ground crew. It is a symbiotic organism made up of all of those things, a family with all of the emotion and closeness that implies. One weak link in that matrix can destroy it like an improperly made glass bowl. For a time Myn had been that weak link.

His squadron mates had found out what was happening, and instead of having his flight status pulled, did some rough and ready psychological patching. They had put him in a simulator in his catatonic state, and when he woke up made him relive that horrible day. Had him begging his dead to flee rather than die before him again.

One of those dead had spoken to him. "_You don't care about us. We lost our lives and you throw yours away rather than living it."_ She had made him promise to live for them, and that was when they had revealed what they had done. He'd been furious, but like draining the pus of a wound, it had allowed him to finally start to heal.

Myn had lived up to his promise to his dead and his new friends. Wedge, who had been the squadron commander at the time, had noted it. It actually helped him with his problem, which had been whether to turn Myn over to the psych-team, which would have ended his career.

They took casualties defeating Admiral Trigit's Implacable, and one of the replacements became very important to the morose man.

Lara Notsil. A woman that had really been Gara Petothel, an Imperial agent. As a slicer who had then been known as Republic Naval officer Chyan Mezzine, she had been the one that had delivered the information that led Talon Squadron to it's destruction.

She had been the cause of their deaths.

It wasn't until her real identity had been discovered that the truth of what had happened before she had joined the squadron was revealed. She had been an intelligence officer working for Imperial Admiral Trigit. Wraith Squadron had smashed his flagship Implacable, and as far as the Imperials knew, she had died when Implacable had crashed on a moon.

On her own initiative, she had gone to Coruscant, assumed the identity of Lara Notsil, a girl from a farming world attacked by Admiral Zinj's forces and received flight training. She had been assigned to Wraith Squadron as Wraith 13; literally she was the spare tire, flying only when one of the first 12 was not able to fly. But she had proven to be one of their best.

Myn had found himself drawn to the quiet woman that had made him want to live again. She had rebuffed him time and again, but finally she had become closer to the sad man. They had slowly grown first to care for each other, then finally to love each other.

Then it had all come apart. The squadron's flight intelligence officer Garik Loran had discovered the truth, and revealed it at the worst possible time for 'Lara'. She had been in flight, ready to go into combat, and Myn was flying not far behind her.

He still didn't know why he had done it. She had been his lover, his friend, his reason for living; and he'd fire a Proton torpedo at her.

He'd tried to kill her.

Why had he been surprised that she had run?

"Myn, It's been three months."

"Wedge-"

"Damn it colonel, make a decision." Wedge was getting frustrated. "She's still there, she's still waiting-" He stopped when he saw Myn's head come up like a turret locking on target.

"She's what?" His voice was soft, but no one would have called it hesitant. "How would you…" He looked at the senior officer. Then he stood. "You bastard." He turned on his heel, and stormed out.

It was too late to explain. Being a Corellian, Wedge had friends in Cornet. All he had done was send messages to them. Not to find her or watch her, just if one woman named Kirney Slane was still in town. Not Intelligence, not the police, not the MPs. Just a friend looking for a friend. Wedge watched him go, and sighed. "That could have gone better."

Donos stalked through the ship, eyes on the deck. He'd been torn as to what to do. He wanted to put a plasma bolt right through her head. He wanted to avenge his own beloved dead.

He wanted to see her, touch her face. Hold her in his arms. He had come back from the dead for her.

What could he do?

She'd stayed in one place for three months. She had waited patiently as he had dithered. She must know what was going through his mind.

What could he do?

He walked into his compartment, collapsing on his bunk. Unbidden his hand went to the flatpic he had of her and he held it as if it were the icon of a lost religion. Lara and him, seated at a table, looking at each other as if there was nothing in the galaxy that was more important. He remembered that day so well. Him hesitant, her letting him make the first move. It had been terrifying and wonderful.

Wedge was right. It had to end. Either he killed her or he loved her. There were no other options.

He went to the intercom, pressing one of the buttons.

"Antilles."

"General, request permission for some leave."

"Just get back as fast as possible." Wedge said. "Now that Thrawn's fighting us things are going to start happening."

"Yes, sir."

Kirney walked into her rooms, the bag of groceries in her hands. Ahead of her, the small furred figure of Kolot watching a children's entertainment program. The others that had been saved by her during the sabotage of Iron Fist had scattered to the winds. But Ewoks had no conception of where their planet was and a fierce loyalty.

She wanted to think of him as an ignorant animal, as she had been taught about all of the aliens almost all her life. But there were hidden depths in that brave little being.

He'd been taught to be a pilot as an experiment in the Imperial Project named Chubar. That had been caused by a joke her own Squadron had perpetrated.

Wraith squadron had pretended to be mercenaries with a homicidal Ewok pilot among them. They had even gone so far as to buy a full sized Ewok stuffed toy, and had it strapped to a man's chest in a dark coverall so that any observer would see the Ewok at the controls of a Tie fighter. The project scientists had taken the Ewok they had, and put him through flight school. Had even gone so far as to make detachable prosthetic extensions for his feet and hands so he could reach the controls.

He was the one that helped her fly them out during the rescue from Iron Fist. That had rescued them. But when the others had thought of themselves, the small being had thought of them first. He had stayed with her because she had risked her life for them and his own sense of honor had made him stick to her.

Tomorrow. If he didn't come by tomorrow she would take Kolot home, say goodbye, and Kirney Slane would join Lara Notsil and Gara Petothel.

She started a pan of water for noodles. Kolot looked around, then stood, walking back into the kitchen. She handed him a raw vegetable, and he hunkered down, eating it as he watched her.

"What we do, Lara?" He asked.

She felt tears in her eyes. Lara Notsil was dead. Gara Petothel was dead. Kirney Slane was soon to join them. There would be nothing left of her when she dropped the small being on his home world. "Tomorrow I take you home." She replied.

There was a hesitant knock on the door. She looked up, hand grabbing her hold out blaster. "Kolot, don't move. Don't fight." She walked toward the door. "It's me they want."

She walked toward the door, heart leaden. It was the CSF, or Republic Intelligence. He wouldn't have come-

The door opened, their eyes meeting. Then a hand came up, gently touching her face. "Finally." She whispered, the pistol landing on the floor as she leaped into his arms.


End file.
